Criminal Husband
by opal star
Summary: Can years of living on the Dark Side just disappear? Not for Draco. On one single night he shows just how he can be his fathers son - at the expense of his family. In three parts - Ginny and her sonComplete
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer- Yeah, like I'd be smart enough to think of Harry Potter but the plot (cough cough) is actually mine. 

Criminal Husband

Summary: Ginny and Draco are together with a son, but can years of living on the Dark Side just disappear? Apparently Not. Updated

Rating: PG-13

Chapter One

March 26th 

Diary of Ginny Malfoy, formally Ginny Weasley.

I've decided to keep a diary. There's nothing else for me to do. It might help to pass away the spare time I have in my life and trust me- I have a lot of spare time and no other way to occupy me. 

If a stranger picks this up there going to wonder why I'm so bored. 

I'm married. If you had told me who to fifteen years ago I would have pointed the way to St. Mungos. That was ten years ago. A lot has changed in the past years, good and bad. 

I'm married to Draco Malfoy. I'm called Ginny Malfoy and we have a son called James Aidan Malfoy.

He's ten years old and it's his birthday in two weeks and then he'll be off to Hogwarts. I still haven't got him a birthday present and have no idea either. He's got blonde hair just like his father but blue eyes- not grey. I wished he'd had brown or green some days. Maybe if I have another child, it'll be a girl. But Draco doesn't want any more – he wants to spend all of his time with James. 

He has some of my habits, so I've been told, and traits of the Weasley's. He stubborn and in the summer he gets some freckles across his nose. He used to be pale now he's just like Ron minus the freckles. And the red hair. I hope Draco doesn't read that. 

Draco was a little standoffish with James to begin with. He was scared he would treat him the way he was treated by his father but now he's great with him. 

We used to go down to the beach and take him in all the rock pools, make sand castles and watch the sun swallowed up by the sea. We'd have a little fire – Draco making James go off to fetch unnecessary driftwood for fuel – and James would try and catch the fish in his hands. 

Or we'd go to the zoo and watch the Fwoppers in the cages and the Fire Crabs being fed. And all the animals James wants he'd get so it's not fun anymore.

That was years ago. Now Draco doesn't have the time. He's always busy.

That's why I'm writing in this notebook. I have nothing to do. 

James is in school from nine to half past three and Draco is rarely home. I have about six hours to entertain myself. Which I do fantastically unsuccessfully. 

The house elves do all the housework and gardening so I can't even do that and complain about doing it like my mum used to. I did try and garden but there's no point – the garden, no grounds, are massive. I could make a secret garden but I wouldn't know what to do. I wouldn't have anywhere to go. I still can't negotiate my way around the damn place. 

The most annoy thing is that Draco and James know their way around there like it the back of their hand. 

March 27th  

I still don't know why I'm writing in this notebook. It's not like it's a posh, magical one. No locks (magic or muggle), no curses if anyone but me touches it – nothing. I could put something on I suppose but I don't think I want to. Something's stopping me and I'm not in the mood to resist. 

It's only a cheap Muggle one. I brought it at the muggle side of Kings Cross. Mum had to put the trolley back after Ron went to Hogwarts. I found some money on the floor – I now realise it was fifty pence – so I found the cheapest thing and brought it. 

All it had in before was a few scribble and notes we passed around class. 

I don't even know why I'm writing a diary considering my history with them. 

That's another thing. 

Draco has brought me anything I want- I just have to say 'That's pretty,' and it's mine. I feel guilty about it when so many people barely have enough money for food and I have everything and more that I could ever need. Life is just like that I guess. 

Sometimes your lucky and other times your unlucky and miss out. 

Mine has been both. Sometimes at the same time. 

When Draco is home he's so nice and sweet. He spends time with James and me for a couple of days but then he has to go.

I don't even know where he goes and when he comes back he's too tired to talk. I don't really want to push his temper.

As long as I've known him he's only lost it once and it wasn't an experience I want to repeat. 

He might get angry at what I'm writing. I don't know any more. Any one could find it I suppose but I'm going to hide it. No one-will know- it'll be my secret. Just for me. 

March 28th

I'm not sure what to do for James' birthday, he had a party last year and he said he didn't want another for a while. Maybe he's too grown up. He doesn't know many people his age either. He had a tutor until he was seven, then he asked if he could be put in a school. There were no magical ones nearby so, without telling Draco, I put him into a Muggle school. 

James didn't mind. He had seen the magical ones we had to travel to and all of the teachers looked uncomfortable when they heard his surname. At this school no one knows his past, or his father's past. He can be himself. He just regretted it when he realised there was exams as well. 

I don't even know what to get him, for his birthday that is, like me he has everything. He was Quiddich equipment, an owl, a top broom, books and anything else Draco brought him.

He hasn't even looked at some things. He spends all spare time on his broom and outside in the grounds. 

I wish I had that freedom. 

But then again, I'm not sure if I take it if I had it. 

He gets good marks for his schoolwork but like every wizard boy he wants to be a Quiddich player for England. He wants to be a chaser and he gets better everyday.

Harry sometimes comes down and trains him a bit even though he was a seeker he was a captain. He knew what formation the chasers could use and some tips for him. They both looked at me funnily when I watched them the other day. James because I hardly come out – especially in March when its wet and cold.

As for Harry's reason, I have no idea. 

~*~

Draco didn't come home last night and he hasn't contacted me. He's done this before but he told me when he'd be back and he owled me. I wish he would come home. I haven't mentioned it to James- he'll just get troubled. 

He just left as normal the day before yesterday and there's been no sign of him. I'm trying not to get worried but there is nothing else for me to do except fret.

I can't talk to Hermione because she's working at Hogwarts, Harry's at the Ministry as an Auror and Ron and the rest of my brothers are around the world. 

I better go and pick up James now- it's only three but I might as well walk. At least it's stopped raining now. 

April 1st

April's fool's today.

I'm so glad Fred and George are in Senegal- I just feel sorry for the people who live there. 

I haven't been able to write the last couple of days. For once I've been busy, for once I've spent time with Draco and for once we've been together as a family.

He just came home about ten minutes after I got back with James. It had started raining half way on the  way back. We were late because we'd hid under a tree. James managed to drag me along a shortcut but James was still in the bath when his father arrived. 

He kissed me and held me close then whispered in my ear 'I'm sorry about leaving you, why don't I make it up to you?'

Within and hour we were in southern Italy and lounging around in our own villa. 

I wasn't sure why he had taken us here. I have a feeling he's feeling guilty about something he did while he was away but I've pushed it to the back of my mind until now. Like I usually do. 

It's strange you see. 

Draco never does anything spontaneous, at least not for a while. Nothing like this at all before. 

But I'm just not bothered anymore. I don't want to know. I'm going to bury my head in the sand and wish it would all just go away. 

For the first time in months he was romantic, sweet, caring and he even let James bury him in the sand. Anyone watching would have thought us a nice, young happy family.

I wish we were. 

I wish we were like we were when James was five. When we were still happy when Draco hardly ever worked.

Life is full of wishes. 

Mine never get answered though. 

April 2nd

Things to do today:

1) Owl school with some reason why James wasn't attending. 

2) Watch James practise Quiddich now 

3) Find some flowers in the garden – don't care what they are. I've just gotta get out. 

4) Go to Diagon Alley and browse around

5) Keep James away from Knockturn Alley

6) Sent Bill a birthday present

Isn't my life exciting? I think I'll sent Bill a hair bobble as a joke and maybe some gel along with it. As far as I know, his hair is still long. Much to Mum's dismay. 

It's a Saturday and some how it fells just the same as every other day. 

I've just got an owl from James. Lazy boy, he won't even get out of bed unless you use a foghorn and a bucket of water. The house elves have to strip his covers from him. It's only because of magic that we get to school on time every morning.

He's not a morning person and this cheeriness is bogus- even in a letter. It's raining outside as well so he'll come back in all muddy and soaked. I'm going to keep him in and MAKE him do at least some of his work. Maybe I should buy some Hogwarts books for him. It might give him a head start. But he'll just whinge about how he's going to become a Quiddich star.

I wonder if he will. 

I'd better go up to him, though not with toast as he'd asked, we need to get to Diagon alley before the crowds get there.

~*~

We were too late; it was packed in Diagon alley even though it was raining cats and dogs. James dragged me to the Quiddich supply shop so I dragged him out into the muggle world to get some hair gel for Bill. I let him deal with the money and he seemed to know what sort of hair gel to get.

I was a little lost when I saw the aisle full of various hair products. I'm just glad I can mutter a charm and voila! It's done. 

We went into the Leaky Cauldron, James couldn't stop staring at a hag, and I swore I heard the word 'Malfoy' and 'Attack' in the same sentence. 

The feeling of uneasiness is growing in the pit of my stomach as quickly as my tan is fading.

April 3rd 

Draco came home dressed in black last night. I've never seen him in black that often- it was the colour of his child hood and he didn't want those memories. 

Anyway, black robes, black gloves, black shoes- the whole works. 

He wouldn't look me in the eye and grunted something about needing a shower.

He's done something again. 

Something really bad- I can just tell by the way he's acting. The way his body moved. He sort of slinked, almost unconsciously keeping to the shadows. None of the floorboards creaked like they usually do. That can only be a bad sign.

I don't want this to happen. 

Anyway, he's coming down the stairs so I'm going to have to out this away somewhere.

I really don't want him finding this. 

Luckily James was already in bed when he came home. He knows nothing about his fathers' connection with the Dark Side, and I want to keep it that way. Permanently. 

April 4th

Now I really am screwed. It's less than I week until my son's birthday and I don't know what to get him. I saw a book on Quiddich Chasers that looked good but it turned out that he's already got like three copies of it. I'm starting to panic – Draco has no idea. He didn't even know until I reminded him. 

Is it right to have a son with all these things? He is so spoilt. 

When I was his age, I had to have Ron's old robes, which wasn't that nicest way to start Hogwarts. 

He has more money than my family did when I was a kid. 

I can feel a headache coming on. James will have to miss school. A major sacrifice I'm sure. 

~*~

Last night was weird.

Draco came down about eight o'clock. I had made James go up to bed early with a promise that if he did he could stay up as long as he wished as long as he stayed in his room. 

For once we talked. I just sat next to him and talked.

When he came back dressed in black a couple of night ago, I was scared of him.

He was radiating power and I was afraid. He walked different; he spoke different but somehow was ashamed of it.

Back to last night, he wasn't so, so, so. I can't think of the words but for the first time in weeks I felt like I could talk to him. Something that was between us has dissolved. 

By the end of the night I was lying in his arms just watching the fire lick at the logs and thinking. We lay in comfortable silence before he said,

'You know I love you,' 

What could I say? Of course I loved him. I fell in love with some one else from what he is now. I never feel like I know him, he blows hot and then he blows cold. I just can't explain. I wanted to cry. 

I said yes but he looked at me like he knew better.

I fell asleep in his arms right there and this morning woke up alone without a note only a blanket thrown over me.

April 5th 

There's been another attack. For the first time in years there's been an attack. Three Muggle's and a wizard dead and instead of a dark mark the killers left a message to the Aurors.

Don't know what it say- the newspaper wasn't allowed to say. I might have to ask Draco. One way or another, he'll know. That can only be for a bad reason right? Got to go- doorbells been ringing for a minute non-stop and it looks like the house elves aren't answering.

I'm not expecting company. 

~*~

He's been lying to me.

All this time, all the nights away he's been with them- Deatheaters. 

I really have a headache now. 

I've just had a couple of Aurors round and the attack a couple of days ago; they think Draco had a part in it.

'Mrs Malfoy,' one of them said 'Where was your husband on the night of April 3rd?'

The night he came home in black clothes. The night I had been waiting for him in the kitchen. The night he seemed to glow with power. The night he wouldn't talk to me.

They think he killed those people when only a week ago we were in Italy and he was buried in sand. 

If they find out that he had a hand in this, he'll be in Askanban longer than James in old. People go mad in months in Askanban- how will he survive years?

I need to ask a house elf for something for my head. I really need to lie down now.

Why? Why would he do this to us? We were perfect, we were happy. I can't understand.

I never will.

~*~

They'll be back tomorrow at about half past five in the evening. I don't know what I'm going to do.

They said if I don't tell them the truth they'll take James away and I'll never see my son or my husband again. One owl and he would be theirs. I wasn't sure whether to believe them or not. They said it so straight-faced, not emotionlessly. I wonder if Harry knows. 

I don't know what to do. 

 I don't dare go to Harry and ask if they can do that, I can't ask Hermione to look after James tomorrow and worst of all Draco always knows when I'm lying.

April 6th 

My life seems to be made up of me waiting, waiting for one thing to go wrong, waiting for someone to come home but this is much worse.

The people I am waiting for will one way or another will ruin my family, split us up, and break us apart. 

Only three day's to go until my son's birthday and still no sign of a present. Draco is spending more and more time away from me.

For once I'm glad for this. 

Even James is picking up on things, the way yesterday I hugged for no reason. For once he didn't push me away instead he hugged me back. We stood there, embraced until we heard the door opening and James shot upstairs. He was out of sigh before Draco had set one foot in the house.

~*~

I asked him to go upstairs to do his homework about fives minute before they're due to come. He knows some thing is up but he went upstairs without a word of protest. He's looking at the books I brought him. I've no idea what books he'll really be having but they're a good start I suppose. 

They're here now. The doorbell is ringing. 

Those two people don't realise it but they're my fate. 

April 7th

I am so spineless.

I didn't tell them shit – at first.

We had been sitting there for about fifteen minute talking. Well, them talking and me just covering up for my husband.

I had to keep saying that to myself. 

He is my husband. You love him. He is my husband. You love him. He is my husband. You love him.

They threatened to take me to the Auror Headquarters, they went on and on about the families of those killed – how they deserved justice. They didn't know I didn't care about that kind of thing any more. It feels like a sleepwalking – awake but not conscious. Everything feels like a dream. A long and painful dream.

Maybe this time I'll wake up for once. 

Then they brought up James. They knew that they struck a nerve and keep on at me.

I had to do it. If only for James' sake.

I told them everything I knew. From when he came in late to the surprise trip to Italy. It all came out.

I don't even know why. I'm so happy here. I have a wonderful son and husband that loves me and gives me everything I ever wanted. Jewels, clothes, perfumes, everything. 

But there was this little voice nagging in the back of my head saying 'Ah, he only gave you those things to make you feel loved. He was feeling guilty.' 

They went after that. Told me to choose a side. But I'm in the middle. I've lived in the Dark and Light side. I don't like either- I'm on nobody's side. Because no one is on my side. 

Where did I go wrong? When did everything derail? 

Why did he go back to the dark side? 

Was it me? 

I don't think I'm going to sleep to night.

Oh god, I've just looked up and James is sitting on the stairs.

He's just heard everything, how his daddy's killed someone and how his mummy told on him. He is going to hate me.

Draco is coming through the door now- I can hear his shoes on the stone floor.

James has given me one last emotionless look before turning round and going back up to his room. 

I've gotta hide this.

April 8th

I've chosen a side. Either way someone is going to hate me.

And both times it's James. He'll go into care if I protect Draco and if I give him up, James will grow up without a father.

What can I do?

I've been too worried to write in this even. I don't even know why I'm doing it now because Draco is due home any second. 

I got an owl today from the Aurors office. 

--

Dear Mrs Malfoy,

A group of ten Aurors will be sent to your house at about 7am tomorrow morning. Make sure your husband is there. 

Head of Operations

Daniel Edwards

That's just a copy. I burnt the real one in the fire as soon as I read it. After a shredded and spat on it. 

Life doesn't seem real anymore. I haven't even bothered to take James to school and he just stays in his room all day. He eats in there, sleeps in there, and plays in there. That room is now his life. Once it was his father and I. 

Now it's his broom and his many books. 

I ought to go up there but I know what he will do. He'll do what his father does.

I'll talk with him, plead with him, and his face won't change. He can be so loving; so caring sometimes but when he's upset and hurt- the mask come on. 

I've hurt him; I've upset him so I've paid the price.

 It sounds so crude on paper but it's true. He's done this twice before but never to me.

I give up. 

Those I love no longer love me. All the memories I have are worthless. The past can't affect the living in my life. 

The past can come to haunt you and for me it comes at night when I'm sleeping. But I feel more in my sleep than I do when I'm awake.

This time tomorrow things will be so much different. For once this doesn't affect me. What will be will be and it is done for the best whether it feels like that or not. 

It's James birthday tomorrow. I doubt he's excited and I still have no…

~*~

I had to stop mid sentence there. Draco has come back.

Before, I had chosen to hand him over to the Ministry but now I'm confused. 

He came over and kissed me properly for the first time in weeks and I remembered why I fell in love with him. He ran his finger through my hair and as if he could read my mind said 'I will always love you Ginny, wherever I go'

I had avoided looking in his eyes. But he cupped my face in his hands and made me look at him. 

He knew he was cornered and the only thing stopping him from taking off was his love for James and me. 

I leaned forward and kissed him, one last desperate kiss he picked me up in his arms and took me upstairs towards our bedroom. I'm glad James was in bed.

He seemed to know what I'd done. Or, he seemed to know something was wrong. He knew I knew about him and what he'd done. I wanted to cry. 

'I know you're afraid, but you can't leave me now. Lean on my shoulder, soon it'll be over. You're the only one l love – the only one I trust,'

Those words are going to haunt me. I can feel it. 

April 9th 

Today is my fate. It's half past six and Draco is sleeping soundly.

He looks so peaceful, so innocent I almost want to wake him up and tell him to run. 

But I don't. 

I'm sitting here like a coward writing like a mad man on the desk. Half an hour and our family is no more, half an hour and my life as I know it is over. 

I can't write fluently – I have to keep stopping. I take another look at him, knowing this might be the last time I see him alone like this. I know what Sirius looked like in Azkaban, will Draco be like that? Will he care? Will he recognise us?

Luckily, James is not a morning person and won't be awake for a couple of hours at least. 

It's funny, in situations like this you think of the most random things. I wonder if Bill like his hair gel? I wonder how many detentions Hermione has given out? What are James' teachers going to say?

I have loads more all just as inappropriate and unnecessary. 

For once time is flying and it's now five to.

There is about fifteen Aurors on our lawn looking up at the house- I recognise one of them as I peek out of the window. He caught my eye and saw the doubt in me. 

He just mouthed the word 'James' and that was it.

Time to face the music now. I'm going to wake him up and say that there's someone outside to see him. 

What have I done?

~*~

I just looked out of the window and he's surrounded and Daniel has a wand pointed at him and I can hear his yells,

"Give it up Malfoy"   "Come in without a fight and no one will get hurt"

I can't stand it. He's a solider, of course, in a war he didn't want to win. 

James will be up because of this noise and his window faces the garden as well. If he didn't already hate me- he will now. 

I'm going to go out there.

I'm going to die with the man I love. I'll go down with him if I have to. 

Maybe someone will find this journal one day. Maybe they will pass it on to James.

I love you James. And you father. We both do. No matter what people might say. I can hear the shouts now – there're even worse. If Draco keeps hurling abuse like that, he's going to be a dead man. 

Ginny Malfoy

I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. 


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer- Yeah, like I'd be smart enough to think of Harry Potter but the plot (cough cough) is actually mine  
  
Authors Note: Thank you to Lillian who reviewed me first and as you may have gathered, it isn't a one-shot fic like I originally wanted to be.  
  
This is in James P.O.V. and his view of events years later and it's going to be a shorter one compared to the last chappie.  
  
Chapter 2  
  
I can't stand it.  
  
James will be up because of this noise and his window faces the garden as well. If he didn't already hate me- he will now.  
  
I'm going to go out there.  
  
I'm going to die with the man I love.  
  
Maybe someone will find this journal one day. Maybe they will pass it on to James.  
  
I love you James. And you father. We both do.  
  
~*~  
  
They were my mother's last words. I'm James, her son, and I only just found this notebook today.  
  
It's been ten years since this day, almost exactly. It's taken ten years for me to pluck up the courage to explore my father and mothers past. Sure there was all her brothers but it wasn't the same, it didn't seem to fit.  
  
For ten years I thought I hated her. She betrayed my father and I ended up in an orphanage any way and I believed it to be all her doing.  
  
I had blocked out all the memories of those days she wrote about but reading this now brought up a wave of fresh emotion.  
  
Before I read this I believed my father to be heartless, uncaring and a murderer.  
  
But I was wrong.  
  
For once I was glad that I was wrong.  
  
She left this diary unfinished and it's my job to complete it- let whoever reads this next know what a great woman my mother was. What a great woman Ginny Malfoy was. It's my duty to her and whoever reads this notebook next.  
  
The day the Aurors came for my father I was awake strangely early, I usually can't get up in the morning but that night I had gone to sleep quite early.  
  
It felt the more I slept the less I had to do back then.  
  
Now I just feel guilty for deserting my mother in a time when she needed me most. If I had she might not have done what she did.  
  
If only I had gone down to her after I over heard the conversation she had with some ministry officials. If only I hadn't have been so proud and stubborn.  
  
But life is full of what ifs and there testimony to the reason why you should always think about what you're going to do next.  
  
Over the years, too many innocent people have been killed but some still live and breathe the air that the dead should. Life isn't fair. I learned this too early.  
  
Back to that day, I have no idea why I'm doing this- maybe it's because I'm back in the house that I spent half my life in. The house that has so many recollections- good and bad- and so much meaning to me.  
  
Again back to that day ten years ago, I had woken up early and the time was quarter seven in the morning.  
  
The more I think about it, the more I realise that I can remember every single detail that happen whereas I can't even remember the professor that taught me Astrology in Hogwarts.  
  
Oh yeah, I've finished Hogwarts with top mark in charms (like my mother) and a scholarship to the England under 21's Quiddich team.  
  
Apart from that I'm just your normal person; it's just the odd looks when you get introduction to someone with the name James Malfoy that make me feel uncomfortable.  
  
Obviously some people still remember my grandfather- Lucius but he was long dead before I was born.  
  
Dementors Kiss I think. Father got away with fifteen years inside Askanban and lets just say it hasn't done him any good but it hasn't made him go crazy.  
  
I thought he was using black magic to keep him sane but now, now I know he's strong.  
  
I keep getting distracted, I'm trying to finish this but all the time I'm putting in complete nonsense. Maybe it's some sub-conscious fear of facing the truth, facing reality, facing life.  
  
On that day I woke up early and had nothing to do. Mother had stopped taking me to school and I wasn't complaining about that. I pushed the covers down and walked over to the window seat.  
  
Early April isn't the best time of year as far as flowers go but I didn't care. I spent most of my childhood outside in that garden- good weather or not. I was only there for five minutes and I noticed a group of people coming up the path.  
  
A group of about fifteen men, clad in dark blue robes, were walking along the path in what seemed like silence.  
  
I had the window open to wake myself up and I didn't here anything. If I was still on speaking terms with my mother I would have gone into her and asked who they were but as it was I stayed put just watching them from beneath a blanket I had brought over.  
  
They stood in huddles of about five, each one of them ruining the sheet of dew on our lawn with their shoes.  
  
I don't know how long they were there but judging from what my mother wrote, only about another ten minutes. That's when one of the looked up and for a moment I though he had seen me but he was looking to the left of me- at my parents' room window.  
  
He mouthed something, 'James' but then I didn't know why. He was blackmailing her I discover ten years later, ten years too late I realise that she handed my father over to save me.  
  
Next thing I knew was that father was down stair and out on the lawn, completely surrounded by Aurors. He wasn't stupid, he knew he was trapped and there was nothing he could do but the Aurors weren't taking any chances.  
  
The leader was yelling stuff like "Put you wand on the floor," and "Hands where I can see them Malfoy," and he did what he was told.  
  
I remember swallowing dryly, knowing for fact that things were never going to be the same.  
  
A door was banged open and someone ran towards the group of Aurors.  
  
"Ginny!" father yelled turning round to face her.  
  
Big mistake.  
  
I know from Harry and Ron that Aurors have quick reactions and if you make a sudden movement they will lash out without thinking. That's what happened her.  
  
There was a flash of light.  
  
I can never remember what colour it was, it sort of merged and changed in the short time it surrounded the group.  
  
A mixture of curses and charms hit her and the next thing I saw was my father holding the pale, limp form of my mother in his arms.  
  
He sank to his knees and held her close to him swaying, back and forth.  
  
Even from this distance I could see the light dwindling in her eyes then finally going out when her eyelids slid down and never came back up.  
  
I had never seen my father cry but that was the first, and last, time I had seen him weep.  
  
None of the Aurors that surrounded them moved. They were a bit shocked. None of their curses on their own would kill a person- they were meant to stop or at least, though it sounds rough, hurt the subject.  
  
All of them put together killed her.  
  
Suddenly they woke up and moved towards father, who was still holding his wife in his arms, grabbing his arms and prising my mothers once beautiful and lifeless body out of his grip.  
  
He allowed himself to be bounded before he looked p at my window.  
  
I never have seen such a mixture of raw emotion since that day. There was so many thing said between us in that single glance.  
  
Anger  
  
Betrayal  
  
Love  
  
Sorrow  
  
Grief  
  
But I shrugged that look off. Even at that age I knew my father could fake anything and everything. It never entered my brain that it might be real.  
  
When I met that group of Aurors at her funeral a couple of weeks later they were sorry but I could just tell they were taking the 'Comes with the job' approach to get themselves out and make themselves feel good that they had done their job right.  
  
I doubt if any of them even remember her.  
  
She had been helping them; she got them their man and this was how they had re-paid her.  
  
All these years later, I still don't trust Aurors with my life. I trust Harry and Ron but only because I grew up with them but any others I'm wary around.  
  
Here I am finishing off the story of Ginny Malfoy, mother, wife, sister and now aunt.  
  
I've discovered she was so many different people all rolled into one. She could love; hate, lie, care; act and she always tried to do the right thing for the people she loved.  
  
It's kind of ironic that I'm writing the last actions of her on the last page of her notebook, dairy, journal whatever you wish to call it.  
  
The diary only records two weeks of her thirty two year old life but that doesn't matter. She has cleared so many things up in my mind and restored my faith in my father.  
  
For the first time I'm going to visit him in prison and see how he is, see if I can get him out of there.  
  
I can now say my name with pride; I had been told Malfoy's were rich, spoilt, proud and unfriendly at Hogwarts. Weasley's were supposed to be caring, poor, friendly though stubborn I found out as well.  
  
I'm supposed to be a mix.  
  
It's up to me to chose which ones will describe me best.  
  
I've read this journal several times and every time I find something new, see something differently- more clearly as if I'm breathing oxygen for the first time.  
  
My head is clear and I have a sense of belonging. I think Americans call it closure. For once I feel at peace with my parents.  
  
For once comes up more than once and whether or not it was in a good context or not it shouldn't have been there more than once.  
  
I know no other way to finish this but,  
  
For once I'm proud of signing my name-  
  
James Aidan Malfoy 


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer- Yeah, like I'd be smart enough to think of Harry Potter but the plot (cough cough) is actually mine  
  
Authors Note: I know some of you wanted me to leave it but I want to end on three chapters and thank all the people who have reviewed my work:  
  
B. Maude(your wish, my command!), LadyRhiyana (my pleasure), FoXyRoXiE (do you want a tissue?), dreamrose, sabacat, Rabbit (Glad you found the second one), Darcel (Lucias Dream) (I'm afraid I'm not talented enough for that), Wind and Ashes, piper-h-99 (take some deep breathes- in through the nose and out through the mouth), sabacat AND last but not least- Lillian (I know what you mean)  
  
And a special thanks to hasapi who read the first little bit of this chapter and gave it the thumbs up! :) Thank you and I haven't had any skittles for a while! And thank you for beta-reading this chapter for me!!!  
  
This is the last part so enjoy it while you can. I may change it in the future so keep a look out.  
  
Chapter 3  
  
My head is clear and I have a sense of belonging. I think Americans call it closure. For once I feel at peace with my parents.  
  
For once comes up more than once and whether or not it was in a good context or not it shouldn't have been there more than once.  
  
I know no other way to finish this but,  
  
For once I'm proud of signing my name-  
  
James Aidan Malfoy  
  
~*~  
  
I know I should leave my mothers diary alone now- let the past go to some far of dark part of my brain. I should keep it in there, let it die- throw away the key.  
  
But I can't. That's why I'm here writing away in my own, cheap muggle notebook. I don't even know why I brought it- I was waiting for a friend to meet me in the muggle world when I saw the newsstand- the newsstand that sold notebooks.  
  
My mother wrote her diary out of boredom- never realising how much it cleared my life up for me. I had said I got a scholarship for the England under 21's side but it has been five years since then and now I play for Puddlemere United and I'm the vice-captain for the English squad.  
  
She always said I would fly- turns out she was literally right.  
  
But this was my mother; I hardly know anything about my father. As far as I know he didn't keep a diary or even a planner. I have a feeling he didn't want to be pinned to anything.  
  
I haven't seen him for about a decade and as far I was concerned he could rot in Askanban. That was a couple of years ago and now I'm starting my own life with my own family.  
  
But there's this little thing knowing in the back of my mind. I can't lock away the past while it still affects my life now.  
  
That's why I'm here.  
  
Askanban.  
  
Well technically I'm not. I'm hiding in the toilets not able to stand all the glares I'm getting from this pug-faced woman and a couple of dark looking people who are undoubtedly seeing their husbands.  
  
It's not like it's my fault. Or it could be they were staring at Harry who has come with me, I don't want him here and I know he doesn't want to be there when I go into my father.  
  
He's the one who got us a private room to talk. Well as private as a closely watched and guarded room can.  
  
He's calling me now, Harry I mean, it's time to go in now.  
  
Time to shut the door on my past. Time to get on with my present and time to look forward to my future.  
  
~*~  
  
It's like trying to hold water in my hands. You'd think that something so important, so big, would stay in my head for the rest of my life. It seems we always forget the good things in out life- and only remember the low points with excruciating detail.  
  
Unfortunately, one of the most-most- important moments in my life is slipping out of my grasp. This memory is like a bar of wet soap, however hard I try it just won't stay- it won't be still. It's slipping in and out of my grasp, I remember some but lost the ones I've found already.  
  
I went into that room. The room that held my father in it and I wanted to run butt Harry's hand was round my arm and steering me into the chair.  
  
He didn't see me at first.  
  
There was a glass wall separating us, I see him be he couldn't see me- not then anyway.  
  
I've been told from Sirius that conditions there used to be no better than pig sty's and he came out in the clothes he came in there.  
  
Things have changed. Standard clothes- grey and bland nothing but the identity number to stop them blending into the uninspiring walls that surrounded them.  
  
Harry had said that he hadn't been told I was coming, only that there was someone to see him. I could almost read his mind- he was thinking it was some kind of psychiatrist coming in to see why he wasn't going crazy or if he was.  
  
I watched him for a moment, drinking up his face- the face I hated for so many years but then.  
  
Now I know.  
  
Anyway, his face was always blurry in my minds eyes except for two occasions. One was when we were on the beach on a summer's day and I was burying him while he slept with a hat covering his face until my mother removed it when he said he wanted something to drink. The other was when he looked up into my bedroom window all those years ago.  
  
None of them looked remotely like he did behind the glass. He was tired, older but unlike Harry, who looks not a day over thirty-five, he looked his age. But I saw his eyes- still as sharp and cold as ever.  
  
His hair was longer, not long enough to tie back but long enough to get in his eyes if he bent over. He itched his arms several times- probably the clothes.  
  
That's another thing. I seem to remember the most trivial things in my life- I can't even remember what his last words to me were but here I am writing down the fact that he itched his arm once or twice (eleven times) in two minutes and wondering what they use to clean the clothes.  
  
Harry came up to me two minutes later and asked if I wanted him to be able to see me.  
  
I nodded-only once but he saw.  
  
He went out the room to give us a little privacy, which is none-existent in there.  
  
I saw a slight shimmer on the glass and the black tint that was there dissolved and I saw the person on the other side like there was nothing there.  
  
He was scowling at something before he looked up straight into my eyes.  
  
I'm not sure what happened next, we just stared at each other for so long. We said all the things we should have said in the fifteen years he's been in here.  
  
All the pain, all the laughter, all the surprises, all the tears that I experienced as a child came flooding back. It was even worse than reading my mothers diary because I could see him going through exactly the same things- exactly the same feelings.  
  
That was the first time I ever fully understood him.  
  
I saw him studying my face for ages but it was more than that- he was studying my soul. It was then that a realised that he's the reason I can always tell when someone's lying, when someone's hurt, when someone's truly happy.  
  
People have told me a put on a mask- make it impossible for anyone to tell what I'm thinking- what I'm feeling. But I let him explore and it could almost feel the weight lifting off my shoulders.  
  
It was like I was carrying a big container of water on my back and someone had drilled a hole in it.  
  
Slowly, I raised my hand against the glass so only my tips of my fingers were in contact with the ice-cold surface. I saw him take a shuddering breath and look at my hand for a moment. Then, just as slowly as I had been, he reached up and placed his hand flat on the glass on top of mine.  
  
At this moment I didn't care that if the guards saw.  
  
We sat and talked for half an hour, like I said before, holding on to these things is like holding onto water- I can't.  
  
Harry came in after half an hour and asked me if I wanted to give him anything, as it could be a while before I could see him again. I asked why but got no answer and I left it.  
  
I picked up two things out of my bag- a picture of my wife and our daughter and a small, muggle notebook. My mother's dairy. Harry looked at it strangely. He had been the only person I had shown it too and he had been the one to persuade me to write in the final pages.  
  
I could understand the funny look but didn't with draw it.  
  
"He needs to know," I said firmly and placed both items into his hands before he persuaded me to do anything else.  
  
Harry passed it over to him just as we started to leave.  
  
I know that in school they never like each other but now they just act civilly to each other. Harry because he has to with the job and my father because he knows that Harry was close to my mother.  
  
So, he accepted gingerly and flipped over the flimsy card cover. His lip curled as he saw the muggle address and price on the front. But the sneer was replaced by a smile then even that fell off after a minute.  
  
He looked up at me as if her writing this was something to do with me. Maybe it was.  
  
I chose to ignore it. He had five more years left of his sentence to muse over this- it took me fie years and I'm not going to push him.  
  
"The picture is of my wife,"  
  
I felt almost embarrassed to say it after what had happened to his wife and child. I'm not going to let this happen to mine.  
  
I met Amelia six years ago even though she meet to Hogwarts she was just one of those people you don't talk to. It's strange. The love of my life was in the same class as me and we barely said more than a sentence to each other.  
  
Louise is four and looks the spitting image of her mother. Dark brown hair and is always laughing but she has my eyes- her grandfather's eyes. But the strangest thing is she has freckles across the bridge of her nose and her hair is wavy unlike Amelia or me.  
  
He picked up the photo with mild interest and I saw him look at the other person in the photograph with curiosity.  
  
"You're a grandfather,"  
  
He dropped the picture and looked at me smiling.  
  
I can't remember much else. We could only stay in there for an hour and Harry had already pulled a million strings to get us in a room alone.  
  
That's why I'm writing it now so anything I do remember stays that way.  
  
We're on the boat, sailing back to shore and my handwriting is all over the place but I don't care- these are my feelings and I will always understand them.  
  
It's all a daze. I'm going to wake up soon and the Quiddich training will start and I'll end up with the Quaffle banged into the side of my head like last time. Maybe I'm still unconscious in the medical ward from when I fell off a broom.  
  
It has taken me fifteen years to go from hating my parents to missing them. One of them is dead and the other might as well be but that is going to change.  
  
I have seen my past and my present and because of this I can take my first steps into the future with more certainly of who I am.  
  
People think I had a miserable childhood with having Draco Malfoy as a father but they couldn't have been more wrong.  
  
The boats pulling up to the shore and I can see Ron, Hermione and their children on the shore.  
  
~*~  
  
Amelia has been asking me where I went to today. She doesn't know about my history, my dark past and I want to keep it that way.  
  
I can't say training because it's a Saturday, I can't say I went out with Louise because she's with Amelia's parents, I'm cornered but I can't tell her.  
  
I just can't- she wouldn't understand. I've seen her life. She grew up with a happy family, brothers and sisters in a house full of laughter. I spent half of my life in an orphanage.  
  
Harry came back today with my mother journal- he had to prise it out of my fathers hands while he slept apparently but  
  
He knew I wanted it back.  
  
Amelia's back and wanted to know what that notebook was.  
  
This is going in the one place she won't look- under the cushions on the couch and I'm going to have to distract her.  
  
~*~  
  
I'm writing this fast.  
  
I wanted to close my past up once and for all but now I realise you can't. You can't lock away things like death. You can't hide with your head in the sand and hope that the fear and sadness will just one day wash away and you'll be normal.  
  
If that works for others I'd like some tips.  
  
I don't for me.  
  
I came home today after Quiddich training and climbed up the stairs still in my England kit itching to get in the shower. As I came into our room found Amelia on our bed weeping.  
  
I came closer to her and noticed a little red journal in her hand and it wasn't this one.  
  
I froze and she looked up, her eyes were blood shot and her cheeks had tearstains streaking down them with a tear rolling half way down.  
  
I walked over to her smiling sadly, I was too used to people crying.  
  
We didn't speak for a moment as I wiped the tears off her cheeks and held her tight. She was starting to calm down.  
  
"You never told me about your mother or your father,"  
  
It was a statement of fact rather than anything else but I hurt because I felt so guilty for not telling her.  
  
"I thought you wouldn't understand,"  
  
She squeezed my hand and smiled and I felt hot tears pricking at the back of my eyes. We just sat there in silence again.  
  
I keep saying this but I remember this conversation in perfect detail but I can barely think of the date I went to Askanban.  
  
"Is it really true?"  
  
What could I say?  
  
"Yes,"  
  
She had her head on my knees now and I was running my fingers through her soft hair. I heard her gasp gently and close the notebook and throw it on the floor. She turned around and took both of my dirty hands in her small ones,  
  
"I would do that for you,"  
  
She brushed her lips on mine for a split second. I didn't know what to say, I was at a loss. Those words were like those my mother spoke over fifteen years ago. I tensed. I panicked.  
  
I stood up quickly and walked over to the window and gazed out onto the grounds where I caught the sound of laughter.  
  
It was Louise and her friend Tom playing in the garden making pictures and attempting letters in the frost that still remains in the shadows of the house.  
  
The house I grew up in.  
  
Before I could dig up any unwanted memories Amelia's voice interrupted me,  
  
"Your not like him- you won't make his mistakes,"  
  
Although I would never do anything to hurt Amelia or Louise I couldn't help but mutter,  
  
"History repeats itself,''  
  
I heard the bed creak and the soft sound of her bare feet on the wooden floor. She took my face in her hands,  
  
"You won't," she said simply looking at me with her dark blue eyes, "You won't,"  
  
It was hard to shake off this feeling now. I'm the same age as my father when I was four. Louise is four too. The same blood runs through my veins and his- I have his weaknesses as well. But there is no Dark Lord and any Deatheaters that have escaped Askanban still have a fresh memory of Lucius Malfoy.  
  
She wound her arms round my waist and we watched the children play outside. The wonky letters LUISE filled half of it where Tom was proudly showing off his skills. Louise didn't seem that bothered and preferred making snakes winding round the letters.  
  
I saw this and smiled.  
  
Amelia was right.  
  
I don't have to make the mistakes my parents made.  
  
I've been too busy giving Louise and Amelia what I did have; I've been too busy to give them what I did have.  
  
Your destiny is not definite- you make it go where you want to go.  
  
I'm going to leave this in the attic with the other one, maybe one day Amelia will find it and read about it.  
  
Maybe  
  
Authors Note:  
  
I am flogging a dead horse here  
  
I lost it *breaks down* and the last chapter was really iffy  
  
So I'm sorry- it wasn't sad, happy or in anyway moving  
  
If you like it review, if you don't review  
  
If you want any more info leave your email address. 


	4. End Note

**Thank you** to all those who reviewed me and although the last chapter wasn't the best people still reviewed. Thank you.  
  
This is now a finished fic (My first WAHOO!!!!) because if chapter three were bad in your mind- chapter four would just be a waste of your reading time.

Anyway, as much as it sucks, this is my favourite fic I have written so for. I wrote it before I became corrupted with Year Nine stress and stupid boys and it reminds me of when I liked writing decent fanfics. Now I just write bad ones in an attempt to copy any emotional and physiological progress made in this fic. Ah well. That's life.     
  
BIG thanks to **hasapi** for beta read the last one and gave me some ideas.  
  


 I have this strange idea to write a diary in Draco's point of view. Good, no? Bad, no? Opinions pleases.

**Foxie Roxie**- they met post-Hogwarts  
  
**Sabacat**- never thought of that actually but I'll have to say no he didn't


End file.
